One in Infinity
by L Moonshade
Summary: AU The Doctor brings Joe Dawson a letter that hasn't been written, yet. 9xOC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Highlander of Doctor Who. If I did, the last Highlander movie wouldn't have sucked so bad.

A/N: A complete rewrite of "Time out of Mind" because I decided I could do so much better. I owe thanks to Seshat - She Who Is The Scribe, and her story of Doctor Who one-shots, What If.. I sto--I mean, borrowed without permission (but with every intention of returning it) chapter 77, One in Infinity. I suggest reading What If (though, not in one sitting). It's a fun little collection.

* * *

Joe Dawson looked up as someone stepped into the bar, then glanced down to make sure his gun was close to hand. Not that he expected to use it, but with his dark jumper, leather jacket, and shorn hair, the guy who'd just come in looked a bit like a street tough.

The guy looked around, almost as if he were sightseeing. When he didn't say anything, Joe broke the silence.

"Can I help you?"

"Just like she said," the man murmured, then turned to Joe, grinning. "Joseph Dawson. Recognize you anywhere."

Joe blinked, surprised. "Do I know you?"

"Naw, but I know who you are. Have something for you. Just a minute…" He dug into his pockets, frowning as he failed to find what he was looking for. "Got it here somewhere," he muttered, pulling items out and setting them on a table.

Joe watched in growing amazement as the pile of items accumulated. "How the hell can you get all of that in there? Those pockets look pretty small."

"Bigger on the inside," the man said, distracted. Then, his face lit up. "Got it!" An envelope joined the items on the table, before everything else was replaced.

"Who the hell are you?"

"The Doctor."

Joe frowned. "You must have a name."

The man rolled his eyes and brought the envelope over to the bar. "That is my name. The Doctor. This'll explain."

Joe took the envelope. "What is it?"

"Letter from an old friend. Mind the date, now," he said, then left.

Joe glanced down. He recognized the writing at once as belonging to Lex, one of his Immortal friends. There was just his name and a date on the back of the envelope, a date some six months in the future.

The door opened again. "Hey, Joe."

"Old Man," Joe greeted Methos distractedly. "Do me a favor, huh? Keep an eye on things out here. I just got a letter I need to read."

"Sure, Joe. No problem."

"Thanks." Joe cast the ancient Immortal a smile, then went back to his office.

Once settled behind his desk, he hesitated. The Doctor's meaning had been clear, but Joe saw no reason to wait. Still, maybe he should…

He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was a long one, and Joe wondered what Lex could have to say here that she couldn't over beers, but the opening lines made him forget everything but the story she was telling.

"I know you're wondering why a letter, and not a face-to-face conversation, but you'll understand by the end," she wrote. "There are a lot of explanations here that you've wanted a long time for, and an answer to one question you've only just asked. Who is the Doctor?

"You once asked why, in nearly nine hundred years, I never married? The Doctor is the reason. I've loved a lot of men in my time, but he's the only one I've ever been in love with. Whether that's romantic or pitiful or both, I don't know, but it's how things are. I know, that still doesn't tell you who he is. Maybe this will:

"There are millions of men on Earth, about the same with every other planet out there. Well, except Amazlio, but that's a whole other bag of chips.

"There is only one Doctor, though. One slightly...eccentric Time Lord in a blue box that's bigger on the inside. You see, all those millions of men can offer to show you the whole of their world, but only the Doctor can offer the whole universe, and all of time into the bargain.

"Is it any wonder I fell in love with him?"


	2. Page 1

The question is, in what order do I tell this? I can hear you grumbling that I should start at the beginning and I will, but with which beginning? You see, I first met the Doctor long before he first met me. Time travel (yes, that says time travel, and I'm not joking). Gotta love it.

Well, since I'm the one telling this story, I suppose we'd better start with the beginning as I saw it, especially since that order's the closest to linear from your point of view. I was born in a little village in Russia, in 1150. Aleksandra was the name my mother gave me; I've since worked hard to forget the one my father bestowed, even though we were the richest, most noble family in that place. He was not a good man, my father. It was my mother the villagers liked, my mother who insisted they care for the baby she found abandoned. I was five when she died and, after that, life became difficult; once I became my father's daughter, some of the hate they felt for him bled over to me. My only hope was to marry someone who would take me away, but there was no one. It would have been well, if there had been a dowry, but my father was too tight with his riches, and not inclined to help a child he'd never seen as his.

I was nineteen when I met the Doctor for the first time. I'd gone into the village for eggs and meat when I saw him, standing in the road, just looking around with an expression of wonder. He was an odd man, dressed in clothes the like of which I'd never seen. Now I know they were dark slacks, jumper, leather jacket but, at the time, I thought them strange. Even odder, when he spotted me looking at him, he gave me a grin. His dark hair was so short there was almost none, his ears stuck out comically, and his nose should have been too large for his face. But his smile, oh, his smile was brilliant, reflected in crinkled eyes the color of the sky, and I grinned back. It was the first stirrings of something I'd never felt before.

That's when it happened. A delivery for my father, behind schedule. The driver knew him, and the size of his anger, and was racing for the farm at top speed. Even if he'd seen the Doctor, there would have been no hope of stopping. No one cared, of course, not about some stranger they had never seen, but I did, and was close enough that I raced over and shoved him out of the way.

"No!" he yelled, spinning.

It was too late. The horses ran me down and I rolled and bounced under their feet, under the wagon's wheels, until, finally, I lay still, nothing in my world, now, but pain. Then, strong arms were cradling me as gently as possible, but it hurt and I cried out.

"Oh, hush, Love, hush. You'll be fine."

What a strange accent, I thought. You'll have recognized it for Northern English (and, by now, I will have, too), but at the time, I'd never heard it, before. Hell, at the time, such an accent didn't exist. "Not fine," I told him. "I'm going to die."

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."

"Worse ways to die than by saving a life. Who are you?"

"The Doctor. You?"

"Aleksandra"

Soft lips pressed against mine in a tender, loving kiss, the first one I'd ever had. "You will be remembered with love, Aleksandra."

I opened my eyes, wanting his odd but lovely face to be the last thing I saw. He smiled, though it was tempered by a deep sadness, and I wondered why we had to meet at the end of my life.

"Sleep, now. Sleep, and the pain will go away," he said, voice breaking slightly.

My eyes drifted shut, again. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"You're the doctor."

He chuckled, held me closer. "Yes. I'm the Doctor."

So, I did what he told me, and slept. He was as good as his promise; when I woke, the pain was gone.

I wasn't alone when I did, but, then, you know that. I called him Mikhail for a long time, until I found out that his real name was Methos. Yes, by the way, I am grinning, imagining your reaction. You had it pegged, even though we did our best to throw you off. We stayed together for about a hundred years; not that it took him that long to teach me to fight well enough to win Challenges, but we'd become close friends, family, lovers. We split up when we finally started getting on each other's nerves, but we met, off and on. Let me tell you one more thing about that first century of my life before we move on; Methos taught me much more than how to fight. He taught me to read and write and how to be a lady. Because of that, I was able to live in wealth in Italy, as a Courtesan, one of the most powerful people in Venice. It was during this time when I met the Doctor, again.

It was in 1565. I had saved the life of a woman a few years before, a woman whose daughter had died at the age of sixteen. When I went to her later, needing a new identity, she gave me her daughter's name; the girl and I looked enough alike that we were able to fool all who didn't know her well. So it was that I became Veronica Franco.

When I saw the Doctor, I had just returned home to find the cats acting strange. They had been for a while and, while it had been entertaining when they'd first started, after a couple of weeks, it was becoming worrisome.

I started as the cats raced towards me and, just there, in the stream of moonlight from the window, I thought I'd seen something, a pinkish mist, but lost it again, and doubted my senses.

The cats barely avoided me as they spun around me, then stopped, yowling. It was a horrible sound, filled with hate and terror, and I felt the latter in spades as I caught another sight of pink, this time right in front of my face. I gasped, breathing the stuff in, then coughed as it cut off my air. I felt as if I were breathing through wet cotton, could get no oxygen, and, as the cats yowled, everything faded and grew dark…

I couldn't have been out too long. Never the less, when I came to, I had visitors.

"Wake up. Please, wake up."

I groaned. "I think I have. What happened?"

"It was a Chorind," the girl said. "It tried to take you over."

"The pink mist? I really did see it, then?"

"Yes, you did. Lucky for you we got here in time."

"Yes," I said, frowning as I took in the girl who knelt next to me. She was dressed in strange clothes, somewhat similar to what the Doctor had been wearing. "What is this Chorind, then?"

"It's an alien, from the planet Chor," a familiar voice said. "The Chorinda can't live off their planet without a host. Unfortunately for you, they don't ask permission, first."

I stood. "Then, it is a bad thing, to be host to one of these creatures?"

"Very. I lost it," he told the girl. "We'll have to keep looking."

"The cats can see them, Doctor," I said, lighting a lamp. "They can lead us to it."

The Doctor paused, taking a close look. "Do I know you?"

"I don't know. Have you ever been to Russia, 1169?"

He grinned. "Aleksandra!"

I smiled warmly. "I'm known as Veronica, here, but yes, it's me."

"You look fantastic," he laughed, pulling me into a hug. Then, he stiffened. "Married to a rich noble?"

"No, I'm more powerful than that."

The Doctor pulled back, his distaste obvious. "You're a Courtesan."

"What's a Courtesan?" the girl asked.

"She's paid to fall in love," he said bitterly.

I reached up and brushed fingertips across his cheek. I had a life to live, but I didn't want to hurt him. "I am paid to make men think I have fallen in love with them," I said gently, "and I am very good at what I do; they all believe me. You do not ask how I am still alive."

"I've had this conversation with you before. Or, I will have. I'm a time-traveler, Aleksandra, a Time Lord. Not from Earth."

I nodded. I wanted to get more information, but there were other things to consider. Such as who the girl was. "And you?"

"Rose Tyler. We've met, too; in my time, you've lived next to me for a couple of years. You, me, my mum and my boyfriend are great mates."

"Friends, you mean?" I smiled. "I can believe that, Rose Tyler. Well, then, Doctor, as I said, the cats can see the Chorinda. Shall we let them lead us to the lair?"

"You should stay here. It could be dangerous."

"You know how I have stayed alive for so long, do you think I fear anything other than remaining behind, only to have you hurt when I could have helped."

"You won't stay?"

"Will I stay behind, the last time you met me? I refuse to this time, as well."

Rose laughed, and the Doctor grinned. "Fantastic!" he said, then, grabbing my hand, led us outside.

Venice was a city full of cats, but hardly one could be seen. There were a few, though, all racing for the same place, so we followed.

"And to think. When it seemed they were chasing nothing, they were really chasing a pink mist."

"Wind," Rose said. "In my time, it's called chasing pink wind."

"Now you know why."

We dodged into an alley after the cats, then stopped. It seemed that every feline in Venice had beat us there, and were sitting on every horizontal surface they could find, staring at the door.

"I think we found the place," Rose said quietly. "This gives me the creeps."

"They are simply trying to figure out how to open the door. Mine do the same thing all the time. This is a warehouse, hardly ever used any more; the cats will have no problem, but we will want to watch where we put our feet. How do we stop them?"

"Leave that to me. There may be hosts who'll try to stop us, though."

"Can you stop them without killing them?" Rose asked.

"If they've become hosts, they're already dead. Beheading them makes them useless for the Chorinda, though."

I reached into my cloak and pulled out my sword. "Beheading. I can do that."

The Doctor nodded grimly. "Then you deal with the hosts and we'll leave the rest of them for the cats. Rose, I'll need you to help me. All right then?"

We nodded and the Doctor opened the door. We paused, just long enough for the mass of cats to race through before following, the Doctor and I in the lead. We found only a few hosts on the way down, and I took care of them easily. Once we reached the basement, though, there was a great deal of activity. In the center of the room I saw something that made no sense to me, a machine, I now know, but I ignored it. Not my department.

The cats wasted no time, racing around the room after creatures I could only catch glimpses of. The hosts, however, those I could see, and those I approached. They were slower than any of the Immortals I'd ever fought, and soon fell. There were well over two dozen of them, however (and it wasn't always easy to have to kill people I knew, men I'd made love to), and I was hard pressed to take them all.

As it turned out, I didn't have to. I'd just removed a head with a one handed swing when my other was taken in a firm grip. I turned to see the Doctor.

"Run," he said, pulling me out of the crowd of hosts.

I didn't have to be told twice. I raced after him, as did Rose and the horde of cats. By the time we got to the door, the warehouse was disgorging cats of every size and color; we hadn't made it more than a few yards, before the place exploded.

"Is your life always like this?" I asked, as the Doctor helped me up.

"Most of the time, yeah," Rose said.

"No wonder you travel with him."

She grinned, then groaned as she started to move. "Oh, I hurt all over. I haven't had a hot bath in ages, I think I need a good soak."

"I have a tub in my home," I told her. "My servants should have the water hot, by the time we return."

"Oh, Doctor, please? Can we stay? Just a little while?"

"Yes, Doctor. Can you stay?"

He met my gaze and smiled. "That is a fantastic idea."

Once back at my home, I made sure Rose was set before returning to the sitting room. The Doctor was standing by the fireplace, waiting for me, staring into the flames.

"How long has it been since you've seen me, then?"

He stirred slightly. "Oh, just a few months. It's been six since Russia."

"Was that the first time you met me?"

He glanced at me, grinning. "No, but you'll see. Can't go polluting the timeline." Then, his smile fell. "Will you be a Courtesan?" he asked. "Will you pretend?"

I stood next to him, but couldn't bring myself to touch him, not while this pain stood between us. "With you, I don't have to. I've hurt you, I'm sorry."

He sighed, his anger bleeding away. "Not you. I've been alone and now, I'm the last. Gallifrey's gone, destroyed in the Time War. Oh, I've had companions, but you humans, you have such short lives. And, now that I've found you, I have to say good bye. Repeatedly."

"I would go with you."

He offered me a quick smile. "I know, but Immortals are a race locked in time. Bringing you with would kill you as sure as a beheading. I don't like that they have what I can't."

"I didn't realize aliens could be jealous men."

"This one can."

"Oh, my Doctor," I said, resting my hand on his chest. "I'll never love anyone the way I do you." Cliché, I know, but it wasn't at the time, and I had no other way to express it.

He took my hand in his and shifted it slightly, putting it over his heart. I smiled as I felt it beating, then he moved our hands over to the right sight of his chest, where a second heart beat.

"Two hearts?"

He reached up and let my hair down to bury his hands in it. "And both are yours," he said, leaning down to capture my lips with his.

In the morning I lay in bed watching him dress, heart breaking.

"Is there any chance of my being able to go with you?"

"Win," he said simply.

"That could be centuries or millennia in the future," I said, trying not to let my voice break.

The Doctor sat on the edge of the bed, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. "I know, Love. Believe me, I know." He bent and kissed me, putting all his love into the gesture, then stood and went, before it became too difficult.

I was left to bury my face in my pillow and cry.


	3. Page 2

The next time I saw the Doctor and Rose was in Cardiff, 1869, seven centuries to the year since I'd first met him. I was supposed to have seen Charles Dickens read A Christmas Carol, but a Challenge changed that. I won, of course, but it had been a long, hard fight, and I was a bit tired.

I was still trying to catch my breath, when I heard someone. Not an Immortal, but I still wasn't sure I wanted to get involved with whoever it was. I expected a Watcher but, when he crouched by the body…Well, the light wasn't quite bright enough for me to see any details, but he is distinctive, and his shadow was all I needed.

"Doctor," I said, putting my sword away.

He stood up. "Do I know you?"

"I don't know. Have you ever been to Russia…"

He cleared the space between us and wrapped his arms around me. "Aleksandra," he said warmly, spinning me around.

"That's a yes, then?" I laughed. "And, I'm Brynn, for the time being."

"That's a yes, my dear Brynn," he said, setting me back down, but not letting go. "You look lovely. Your handiwork?"

"What? Oh, you mean Farouk. Yes, that was me. You, Doctor, are a sight for sore eyes."

He grinned. "I am, aren't I? Been, what, seven hundred years for you?"

"Only three, Time Lord. What are you doing here?"

"Brought a friend to see…Well, I was trying for Vienna. Sometimes my aim's a bit off."

"A bit? How is Rose?"

"Oh, she's…Back there," he said, indicating the nearest house. He slid his other hand down my arm, catching my hand at the last minute. "There's trouble, but Charles has a coach. Take you home, I'm sure."

"I'd never go home when there's trouble," I said, following him towards the house. "Why did you come out here, then?"

"On the off chance it was you," he said quietly.

I gave his hand a squeeze, but didn't say anything. What could I say?

The home doubled as a mortuary; Mr. Sneed's, I knew, having just used his services. As we walked back, the Doctor filled me in on what had happened. It seemed that creatures made of gas were inhabiting corpses. One of these had gone to see Mr. Dickens (who was the Charles the Doctor had mentioned) and the creature had escaped. Sneed and his maid, Gwyneth, had taken the corpse, and Rose, when she'd seen too much. When the Doctor had commandeered Charles' coach to follow, the author had tagged along.

When we got there, Rose was giving Sneed hell for kidnapping her. She trailed off when she saw me, though, a stunned look on her face.

"Lex? Is that you?"

"Not yet," the Doctor told her. "It's Brynn, here, we'll explain later. That's Mr. Sneed, Gwyneth, Rose, and the great Charles Dickens. Right, then, what's going on?"

"It's not my fault, it's this house," Sneed said firmly. "It always had a reputation as being haunted. But I never had much bother until a few months back when the stiffs…" he trailed off at an offended sound from Dickens, "the er, dear departed started getting restless."

Dickens scoffed. "Tommyrot."

"You witnessed it. Can't keep the beggars down, Sir, they walk. And it's the queerest thing that they hang on to scraps..."

Gwyneth came over with two cups of tea. "Two sugars, Sir, just how you like it. And you, Missus; three sugars and cream."

We watched her go, then the Doctor turned to me, one eyebrow raised. I nodded; she'd gotten mine right, too.

"One old fella who used to be a sexton almost walked into his own memorial service," Sneed continued "Just like the old lady going to your performance, Sir. Just as she planned."

"Morbid fancy."

"Oh, Charles, you were there."

"I saw nothing but an illusion."

The Doctor frowned. "If you're going to deny it, don't waste my time. Just shut up."

Dickens looked stunned. No doubt few people talked to him like that.

"What about the gas?" the Doctor asked Sneed.

"What happened with the gas?"

"It flared up."

"That's new, Sir, never seen anything like that," Sneed told us. "Nor that strange lightning, you went to investigate."

"That's not connected," the Doctor said. "Gas flaring, though, that means it's getting stronger, the rift's getting wider and something's sneaking through."

"What's the rift?"

"A weak point in time and space. The connection between this place and another." I glanced around at their stunned looks. "What? I have done research since meeting you two."

The Doctor grinned. "Lovely! Rifts are the cause of ghost stories, most of the time."

"That's how I got the house so cheap," Sneed said. "Stories going back generations. Echoes in the dark, queer songs in the air and this feeling like a... shadow, passing over your soul. Mind you, truth be told, it's been good for business. Just what people expect from a gloomy old trade like mine."

Dickens had, at some point, slipped out of the room. The Doctor and I went to look for him, check the house, and take a moment to talk.

"Research?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Not so much my own; I have no head for science and maths. I was nineteen before I even learned to read…"

"Your mentor teach you that?"

"And enough math that I wouldn't be cheated in the markets. And history, and how to be a lady…He's a good man; I love him dearly."

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Never in love with him, though," I said, just as softly. "I've only ever been in love with one man."

He glanced at me and smiled. There was a hint of sadness to it, but it quickly widened. "So. Research."

"I've done well with my money. I've endowed more than one study, and I have them tell me what they've learned."

"I love a woman who uses her mind," he said, as we stepped into one of the rooms.

Dickens was there, examining the coffins. We watched him for a moment, until the Doctor spoke.

"Checking for strings?"

Dickens glanced back at us. "Wires, perhaps? There must be some mechanism behind this fraud."

The Doctor walked over to him. "Oh, come on, Charles. All right. I shouldn't have told you to shut up; I'm sorry. But you've got one of the best minds in the world. You saw those gas creatures."

"I cannot accept that."

"When the human body decomposes, it breaks down and produces gas," I said. "That would make it the perfect home for these creatures. Am I right, Doctor? They could use the body as a vehicle, just like a driver and coach."

"Exactly right."

"Stop it. Can it be that I have the world entirely wrong?"

"Not wrong. There's just more to learn."

Dickens shook his head, denying it. "I've always railed against the fantasies. Oh, I loved an illusion as much as the next man, reveled in them, but that's what they were. Illusions! The real world is something else. I dedicated myself to that. Injustices, great social causes; I hoped that I was a force for good. Now you tell me that the real world is a realm of specters and jack o' lanterns, in which case, have I wasted my brief span here, Doctor? Has it all been for nothing?"

"Don't look at it like that," I told him gently. "Think of it as a…library, with thousands of books to read. You can never get through them all in one lifetime, but that doesn't mean you can't try. It doesn't mean you can't enjoy trying."

Dickens shook his head again and stalked off.

"I wish I could tell him the truth."

The Doctor frowned. "What truth?"

"That if seven hundred years of experience has taught me anything, it's that I still know nothing. There's so much to learn, so much to see and do. And that is the wonder of the world. That is what keeps me going when all the good-byes start to be too much."

He drew me into his arms. "Who did you just lose?"

"My son. He was just two when I found him, thrown out with the trash. Peter never married, so I don't even have any grandchildren…Do you know at the end, he was passing _me_ off as _his_ grandchild."

"You Immortals lead such lonely lives," he sighed. "I wish I could change it."

"No, don't. If I weren't Immortal, I never would have known you."

"And that's worth all the pain?"

"Every moment of it."

He held me for a moment longer before pulling back and taking my hand. "Let's find Rose."

She was in the kitchen with Gwyneth. The maid was talking, and the girls were so intent on their conversation that they didn't notice us.

"I can't help it, ever since I was a little girl. My mum said I had the sight. She told me to hide it."

"But it's getting stronger. More powerful, is that right?"

They jumped when the Doctor spoke, turned to look at us. Gwyneth nodded.

"All the time, Sir. Every night, voices in my head."

"You grew up on top of the rift."

"You think that has affected her this way?" I asked.

"Oh, yes; she's a part of it. The key."

"I've tried to make sense of it, sir. Consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, all sorts."

"Well, that should help. You can show us what to do."

"What to do where, Sir?"

The Doctor grinned. "We're going to have a séance."

It took us some time to get ready. As we did, I had a chance to talk to Gwyneth. She looked at me and smiled shyly, glancing away before she spoke.

"I'm sorry about your son, Ma'am. I know how much you loved him."

"Thank you, but everyone else thinks he was my grandfather."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. What do you know about me?"

"I'm trying not to look to hard at you, Ma'am. So many years, so much blood and pain. And the lightning…"

"You're right. It's probably best not to look."

"And your husband, the Doctor…" She trailed off. "Oh. You're not married, are you?"

I was quiet for a long moment, remembering Venice. "Maybe we are, in the ways that matter. No, don't apologize, child. You can't help what you see, and you haven't seen anything I don't know."

"He loves you. I don't think he knows it, but he's loved you ever since he first held your hand."

I smiled sadly. "Thank you, Gwyneth. Now, if you please, say no more about it?"

"No, Ma'am."

It wasn't much longer before we were seated around the table, Gwyneth at the head, lights turned down low.

"This is how Madam Mortlock down in Mid Town summons those from the Land of Mists," she said. "Come, we must all join hands."

"I can't take part in this," Dickens grumbled, getting up.

"Humbug?" the Doctor taunted. "Come on, open mind."

"This is precisely the sort of cheap mummery I try to unmask. Séances? Nothing but luminous tambourines and a squeeze box concealed between the knees. This girl knows nothing."

"Now, don't antagonize her. I love a happy medium."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Come on, we might need you," the Doctor told Dickens. The man sat down, and the Doctor nodded. "Good man. Now, Gwyneth. Reach out."

"Speak to us. Are you there? Spirits?"

Dickens rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.

"Come. Speak to us that we may relieve your burden," Gwyneth said, looking to the ceiling.

A low murmuring started to fill the room. Sitting opposite each other, Rose and I each met the other's gaze.

"Can you hear that?"

I simply nodded.

"Nothing can happen," Dickens assured us. "This is sheer folly."

"Look at her," I told him.

"I feel them. I feel them."

And we could see them. How to describe it? Like luminous ghosts, I guess, is the best way to say it, but that's not exactly right.

"Doctor, what are they saying?" I asked.

"They can't get through the rift. Gwyneth, it's not controlling you, you're controlling it. Now look deep. Allow them through."

"I can't," Gwyneth nearly wailed.

"Yes you can, just believe it. I have faith in you, Gwyneth. Make the link."

She looked as if she were in pain, for a moment, until she suddenly dropped her head and opened her eyes.

"Yes."

Three of the figures appeared behind her, glowing as if alight.

Sneed gasped. "Great God. Sprits from the other side."

"The other side of the universe," the Doctor said.

"Pity us, pity the Gelth. There is so little time, help us."

Speaking through Gwyneth they had her voice, of course, but it was different, too, almost child-like.

"What do you want us to do?"

"The rift. Take the girl to the rift. Make the bridge."

"What for?"

Is it any wonder that the Doctor was the only one speaking? I had seen a great deal in seven hundred years, but I didn't know what to do, here. Rose may have been able to take this in hand, but it was only her second trip with the Doctor, and she was even more out of her depth than I was. As for Sneed and Dickens, they'd never seen anything like this, and were stunned into silence.

"We are so very few, the last of our kind. We face extinction."

"Why, what happened?"

"Once we had a physical form like you. But then the war came."

That sparked Dickens into speech. "War? What war?"

"The Time War."

At this, the Doctor and Rose glanced at each other, a pained look on his face. I gave his hand a squeeze and he turned to me with a grateful smile.

"The whole universe convulsed. The Time War raged, invisible to smaller species but devastating to higher forms. Our bodies wasted away, until we were trapped in this gaseous state."

"So that's why you need the corpses," the Doctor said, back in control.

"We want to stand tall, to feel the sunlight. To live again, we need a physical form, and your dead are abandoned. They're going to waste, give them to us!"

"But we can't," Rose said, shocked.

"Why not?" the Doctor asked.

"It's not... I mean, it's not..."

"Not decent? Not polite? It could save their lives."

The Doctor and Rose stared each other down for a moment, until the Gelth spoke again.

"Open the rift, let the Gelth through. We're dying. Help us. Pity the Gelth."

They disappeared and Gwyneth collapsed onto the table. Rose jumped up and went over to her.

"Gwyneth. Are you okay?"

"All true," Dickens said, in shock after that little display. "It's all true."

The Doctor and Sneed got Gwyneth to the couch and lay her down, while Rose got a cool cloth to wipe the girl's forehead with. I had settled in a chair next to the fire; the Doctor perched on the arm, a hand on my shoulder. It was a long few minutes before Gwyneth stirred and opened her eyes.

"It's alright. You just sleep," Rose shushed her.

Gwyneth shook her head. "But my angels, miss. They came, didn't they? They need me."

"They do need you, Gwyneth. You're they're only chance of survival."

Rose turned angrily to look at the Doctor. "I've told you, leave her alone. She's exhausted and she's not fighting your battles."

He sighed, while Rose gave Gwyneth some water. Sneed shifted, uncomfortable.

"Well, what did you say, Doctor? Explain it again. What are they?"

"Aliens."

"Like...foreigners, you mean?"

"Pretty foreign, yeah. From up there," the Doctor said, pointing up.

"Brecon?" Sneed asked, just not getting it.

The Doctor glanced at me and we shared a bemused look. "Close," he said, giving up. "They've been trying to get through from Brecon to Cardiff but the road's blocked. Only a few can get through and even then they're weak. They can only test drive the bodies for so long, then they have to revert to gas and hide in the pipes."

"Which is why they need the girl," Dickens said.

"They're not having her," Rose said firmly.

"But she can help. Living on the rift, she's become part of it, she can open it up, make a bridge and let them through."

"Incredible," Dickens said. "Ghosts that are not ghosts but beings from another world who can only exist in our world by inhabiting cadavers."

"It's a good system," I said. "It might work."

Rose shook her head angrily. "You can't let them run around inside dead people."

"Why not? It's like recycling."

"Seriously though, you can't."

"Seriously though, I can."

"It's just wrong," Rose insisted. "Those bodies were living people. We should respect them even in death."

"What we do with the deceased is for the comfort of the living, Rose, not the dead. This can comfort the living, even if they aren't human, in this particular case."

The Doctor cast me an approving glance. "Do you carry a donor card?" he asked Rose.

"That's different, that's…"

"It is different, yeah. It's a different morality. Get used to it or go home," the Doctor said firmly. Then, more softly, "You heard what they said, time's short. I can't worry about a few corpses when the last of the Gelth could be dying."

"I don't care, they're not using her."

"Don't I get a say, miss?"

Everyone glanced at Gwyneth and Rose sighed.

"Look, you don't understand what's going on," she told the maid.

"You would say that miss. Because it's very clear inside your head that you think I'm stupid."

"That's not fair!"

"It's true, though. Things might be very different where you're from, but here and now, I know my own mind. And the angels need me. Doctor, what do I have to do?"

"You don't _have_ to do anything."

Gwyneth smiled. "They've been singing to me since I was a child. Sent by my mum on a holy mission. So tell me."

"We need to find the rift. This house is on a weak spot, so there must be a spot that's weaker than any other. Mr. Sneed, what's the weakest part of this house? The place where most of the ghosts have been seen?"

"That would be the Morgue."

"No chance you were gonna say 'gazebo', was there?" Rose grumbled.

Yes, that is quite cliché, though, in my experience, beauty hides danger more often than ugliness reveals it. So, we all trouped down to the morgue, Dickens trailing behind, not sure he could handle what was happening, not sure he could deal with the truth.

Once there, the Doctor looked around. "Talk about bleak house," he muttered.

Rose had seemed deep in thought and now spoke. "The thing is, Doctor, the Gelth don't succeed. 'Cause I know they don't. I know for a fact there weren't corpses walking around in 1869."

"Time's in flux, changing every second. Your cozy little world could be rewritten like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "Nothing is safe. Remember that. Nothing."

"Doctor, I think the room is getting colder," Dickens said.

I agreed. "I think you're right."

"Here they come," Rose murmured.

The Gelth floated into the room, the leader putting itself in the archway of supporting blocks. "You have come to help. Praise the Doctor! Praise him!"

"Promise you won't hurt her," Rose said firmly.

"Hurry! Please; so little time. Pity the Gelth."

You know how, when someone calls and offers you a special deal, but you have to give them your credit card number, and you have to decide _now_, that insistence raises a little, niggling doubt? That's how I felt and, when he spoke, I could hear the same in the Doctor's voice.

"I'll take you somewhere else after the transfer, somewhere you can build proper bodies. This isn't a permanent solution, all right?"

Gwyneth, however, wasn't going to be swayed. Or delayed. "My angels. I can help them live."

"Okay," the Doctor said, resigned. "Where's the weak point?"

"Here, beneath the arch," the Gelth told us.

"Beneath the arch," Gwyneth said, positioning herself there.

Rose moved up to stand in front of the other girl. "You don't have to do this."

Gwyneth put her hands on Rose's cheeks, a peaceful look on her face. "My angels."

Rose staggered back, though if it was because of her emotion or because of something the Gelth did, I've no idea.

"Establish the bridge, reach out of the void, let us through," they told Gwyneth.

"Yes," she said. "I can see you. Come. Come to this world, poor lost souls."

"It is begun," the Gelth said, triumphant. "The bridge is made."

Gwyneth's mouth opened and Gelth poured out of it. And kept coming. "She has given herself to the Gelth."

Dickens shifted, worried. "There's rather a lot of them, eh?"

Suddenly, the Gelth didn't sound so child-like and innocent. "The Gelth will come through in force."

"You said that you were few in number," Dickens gasped.

"A few billion. And all of us in need of corpses."

The bodies in the morgue started to get up and, of course, we were out numbered. And I rather thought that, unlike with the Chorinda, beheading wouldn't do a damn thing.

Sneed approached the girl. "Gwyneth, stop this. Listen to your master." As if she were a dog, or could stop what the Gelth had begun. "This has gone far enough. Stop dabbling, child, leave these things alone. I beg of you…"

Rose and I saw it at the same time, but she yelled first. "Mr. Sneed! Get back! "

A corpse grabbed him from behind and held him, while a Gelth poured itself inside.

"I think it's gone a little bit wrong," the Doctor said.

"I have joined the legions of the Gelth," the body formerly known as Sneed said. "Come. March with us."

Dickens had remained close to the door out and now inched closer to it. "No."

Corpses advanced on Rose, the Doctor, and I, the Gelth talking the whole time. "We need bodies. All of you dead. The human race. Dead."

"Gwyneth, stop them," the Doctor told her, though the tone in his voice said he knew she couldn't. "Send them back. Now."

"Four more bodies," the Gelth said. "Make them vessels for the Gelth."

Dickens was shaking like a leaf. "I…I can't! I'm sorry!"

Behind us was a wrought iron door. Once, it probably had led to a deeper level, but that opening had been bricked up. The Doctor opened the door and ushered Rose and I through it, then followed before shutting the door, again. It was tight quarters and, under other circumstances, I would have been happy to be pressed up against him, like that. And envied him his spot in the middle.

"It's too much for me! I'm sorry," Dickens called, then ran out of the morgue.

The corpses were trying to get to us. "Give yourself to glory. Sacrifice your lives for the Gelth."

"I trusted you. I pitied you!"

"We don't want your pity. We want this world and all its flesh."

"Not while I'm alive," the Doctor spat.

"Then live no more."

"But, I can't die," Rose said. "Tell me I can't. I haven't even been born yet, it's impossible for me to die. Isn't it?"

"I'm sorry."

"But it's 1869, how can I die now?"

"Time isn't a straight line," I said.

"It can twist into any shape," the Doctor agreed. "You can be born in the 20th Century and die in the 19th, and it's all my fault. I brought you here."

Rose calmed a bit. "It's not your fault. I wanted to come."

"What about me? I saw the fall of Troy. World War Five. I pushed boxes at the Boston Tea Party, now I'm going to die in a dungeon," he said, a horrified look on his face. "In Cardiff."

"It's not just dying. We'll become one of them. We'll go down fighting, though, yeah?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah."

"Together? The three of us?"

"Yes," I said.

"I'm so glad I met you," the Doctor said to Rose. Then, turning to me, "Both of you."

"Me too," Rose said, a bit surprised by his admission.

"Absolutely."

"Can't die without doing this," he said, then leaned in and kissed me. When he pulled back, he was grinning. "Lovely." He turned back to the Gelth. "Right, then. Shall we…"

"Doctor," Dickens shouted, rushing into the room. "Turn off the flame, turn up the gas. Fill the room, all of it, now," he said, running over to a lamp to put deed to word.

"What're you doing?"

"Turn it all on. Gas the place," Dickens said, going to another lamp.

"Brilliant," I laughed. "Gas."

"What, so we choke to death instead?" Rose snapped.

"Am I correct, Doctor?" Dickens asked. "These creatures are gaseous."

The Doctor grinned. "Fill the room with gas, it'll draw them out of the host. Suck them into the air like poison from a wound."

The corpses left us in favor of Dickens, who watched them nervously.

"I hope...Oh, Lord. I hope that this theory will be validated soon. If not immediately."

"Plenty more," the Doctor said, finding both a lamp and gas canister behind the door with us. I turned on the gas while he smashed the canister, and the Gelth started being drawn out of the bodies, screaming.

"It's working."

We came out from behind the door, the Doctor and I going over to Gwyneth. "Gwyneth, send them back. They lied, they're not angels. Look at me. If your mother and father could look down and see this, they'd tell you the same, they'd give you the strength. Now send them back."

"Can't breathe," Rose coughed.

"Charles, get them out," the Doctor told Dickens.

"They're too strong," Gwyneth said.

"Remember that world you saw? Rose's world, all those people? None of it will exist unless you send them back through the rift."

"I can't send them back. But I can hold them in this place, hold them here. Get out." She put her hand in her pocket, pulling out a box of matches.

"No," Rose cried. "You can't."

"Leave this place," Gwyneth said.

The Doctor took Rose's shoulders and made her look at him. "Rose, go now. I won't leave her while she's still in danger, now go. You, too," he told me, as Dickens drew Rose out of the room.

"Nonsense. I'm the one who's Immortal."

"No. An explosion could kill even you."

"I've got a better chance than you. Gwyneth, give those to me," I told the maid, holding my hand out for the matches.

She didn't respond. The Doctor put a hand on her neck, feeling for a pulse; the way he slumped told me all I needed to know, and I dropped my hand.

"I'm sorry." He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you," he said, taking my hand. "Now, run."

We did, making our way through the house and out the front door just as the house exploded. When we stood, we found Rose glaring at us.

"She didn't make it."

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "She did close the rift, though. Didn't she?"

The Doctor just nodded.

"At such a cost," Dickens sighed. "The poor child."

"I did try, Rose, but Gwyneth was already dead," the Doctor told her. "She had been for at least five minutes."

"What do you mean?"

"I think she was dead from the minute she stood in that arch."

"But...she can't have, she spoke to us. She helped us, she saved us. How could she have done that?"

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Dickens said. "Even for you, Doctor. Am I right?"

"You are."

"She saved the world," Rose said. "A servant girl, and no one will ever know."

"We will." I brushed off my skirts. "I'm detecting a pattern, here, Doctor. You show up, and something explodes."

He just took my hand and gave me a cocky grin.

We watched the building burn for a while, then Rose turned to me. "You are my Lex, aren't you?"

"Like the Doctor said, not yet."

"I don't understand."

"I have yet to go through the two hundred years of experiences that will make me the woman you know. I'm extremely hard to kill, Rose. I was born in 1150."

"Seven hundred years?" Dickens asked. "How do you go on?"

I looked at him and smiled. "By remembering that there are thousands of books left to read, thousands of wonders I haven't seen."

We made our way back to Cardiff proper, and a large, blue box. There was a legend around the top that read, "Police Call Box," though I had no idea what it meant. I said goodbye to Rose, then turned to the Doctor, vaguely aware of Rose and Dickens as they moved away, giving us some privacy.

"I can't…"

I nodded. "I know. You've already told…Well, I've already found that out."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. Will I see you again?"

He nodded. "At least once." He drew me close and kissed me, taking a bit more time than he had earlier. "Live a good life. And, win."

"I'll do my best, on both counts. Doctor, my Doctor, I…"

He turned suddenly. "C'mon, Rose, time to go," he said with forced cheerfulness. "Lots to do and see. Charlie-boy, it was fantastic meeting you."

"Thank you, but, I don't understand. In what way is this goodbye? Where are you going?"

"You'll see," the Doctor said, opening the door.

"On my soul, Doctor, it's one riddle after another with you. But after all these revelations, there's one mystery you still haven't explained. Answer me this. Who are you?"

"Just a friend passing through."

"But you have such knowledge of future times. I don't wish to impose on you, but I must ask you. My books. Doctor, do they last?"

The Doctor grinned. "Oh, yes."

"For how long?"

"Forever. Right. Shed. Come on, Rose."

They turned to the door, and Dickens sputtered.

"In, in the box? Both of you?"

The Doctor gave him a stern look. "Down boy. See ya." He turned to follow Rose in, pausing to look at me, his smile faltering. He almost seemed to say something, then thought better of it and went inside.

"You love him very much, don't you?" Dickens said gently.

"I was nineteen when I was run down by a horse and wagon, after pushing him out of the way. He held me as I lay dying, and I have loved him ever since. Every day for seven hundred years, almost exactly." I sighed. "Nearly everything in life gets easier, the more you do it. Saying goodbye, though, that only gets harder."

The sound of the universe, I've heard it called by others who have heard the Doctor's TARDIS come or go, and that's as good a description as any. Certainly, once you've heard it, there's no mistaking it for anything else. The sound rose and the large blue box faded from sight, the noise going with it. In spite of what it meant, I couldn't help but smile; it was, after all, an amazing sight. Next to me, Dickens laughed, delighted.

"Come, my dear. You will, of course, let me escort you home?"

"Delighted, Mr. Dickens," I said, taking the arm he offered. My home wasn't far so we walked, wishing Merry Christmas to passers-by.

He had been estranged from his family but, in light of what had happened, decided to make amends, starting with returning home for Christmas. He invited me to join them and, not wishing to be alone, I accepted. He was, of course, dead nearly seven months later but, during the time he had left, I was a guest of the family's and enjoyed a wonderful friendship.


	4. Page 3

I saw the Doctor one more time before the end, just recently, though only briefly. I'd been in London running errands, so I'd offered Rose a ride home from work. We had become friends not just because I knew it would happen—had to happen—but because she really is a wonderful girl. Brighter than she gives herself credit for, braver, and willing to go to any length for her friends.

The security guard recognized me and told me that Rose had gone down to the basement to deliver the lottery money. He also risked his job; even though the store was closing, he let me in so I could find her. I'd gone down with her before, so I knew where she had gone, but she wasn't there. I rolled my eyes, but heard movement along the hall, so I headed down, finding Rose just outside a fire door.

"Rose, shift it. I've got to get home and pack." I had a flight to New York early the next morning. I wouldn't have gone, if there'd been a choice, but I had a Gathering to attend.

She jumped then turned. "Lex, you scared me. I can't find Wilson. Think he's in here."

"Well, come on, then," I grumbled, following her into the room.

After seven hundred years, I'm not spooked easily, but a room full of shop dummies will give even me the creeps, especially if said room is in an empty building and there's someone missing. Rose flicked on the light and stepped farther in. Better her than me, I thought, taking only a couple of steps, hand straying towards my sword.

"Wilson?" Rose called, going to a second door, finding it locked.

There was an echoing slam as the door shut behind me. I jumped and actually put my hand on the hilt as I spun, before remembering where I was. I tried the door, but it was locked against us.

"Damn it. Is that someone mucking about?" I growled. "I don't have time for this." A quick look at the door showed me that I wouldn't be able to pick the lock. "What about the other door, Rose?" I asked, heading farther into the room. "Is there a regular lock on it?"

"Not sure, why?"

"Because if there is, I can pick it, and damn the alarms."

I came even with her before hearing something behind. I turned, just as one of the dummies stepped out of an alcove. It advanced and we moved back, Rose trying to laugh.

"Okay, you got us. Very funny."

The dummy said nothing and kept coming, even as it was joined by two more.

"Right, I've got the joke. Whose idea was this? Was it Derek's?"

Now it was four, then seven, and my hand closed on the hilt of my sword. I was reluctant to draw it, though, painfully aware that Rose didn't yet know I carried one.

"Derek, is this you?" she asked, voice trembling a bit.

All the dummies were advancing, now, and backed us up against the wall by the other door. A quick look told me that there was no lock to pick, even if I'd had the time. The hell with it, I thought, and started to draw my sword.

Suddenly, the door opened. I hardly noticed until someone took my hand, a familiar grip, and I let go of my sword to grab Rose's hand, knowing what the Doctor would say.

"Run," he said, and we did.

He led us down the hall, dummies close behind (you'd be surprised how fast they ran), and into a lift. The door closed on a dummy's arm; the Doctor fought with it a moment, before pulling it off. The doors closed fully, and up we went.

"You pulled his arm off," Rose gasped.

"Yep," the Doctor said, tossing it to her. "Plastic."

"Very clever, nice trick," she grumbled. "Who were they then, students? Is this a student thing or what?"

"Why would they be students?"

"I don't know."

He glanced at her, scoffing. "Well, you said it."

"Cause...to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they gotta be students."

He grinned. "That makes sense. Well done." His smile fell as he turned to regard me sternly. "Nothing to say?"

"They're not students."

Suddenly, he was giving me a closer look. "Why wouldn't they be students? You said it," he reminded me, before I could say I didn't know.

I grabbed the arm from Rose and smacked him on the head with it. "Solid. So, it's not people in costume."

He grabbed the thing from me and tossed it back to Rose, grinning again. "That makes more sense. Better done."

"Whoever they are, when Wilson finds them, he's gonna call the police," Rose said.

"Who's Wilson?" the Doctor asked.

"Chief electrician."

The lift came to a stop. "Wilson's dead," he said, matter of factly, stepping out as the doors opened.

"That's just not funny, that's sick," Rose snapped as we got out.

"Hold on." He pushed us to the side and pulled something out of his pocket. "Mind your eyes," he said, using the item to disable the lift.

"I've had enough of this now," Rose snapped, following him as he walked away. "Who's that lot down there? I said, who are they?"

The Doctor stopped and turned to face us. "They're made of plastic. Living plastic creatures. They're being controlled by a relay device in the roof, which would be a great big problem if I didn't have this," he said, waving something at us. "So!" He opened the fire exit for us. "I'm going to go up there and blow them up, and I might well die in the process. But, don't worry about me, no. Go home, go on. Go and have your lovely beans on toast. And, don't tell anyone about this, or you'll get them killed."

We stepped outside, Rose still indignant. "Well, who are you?"

"The Doctor," I said.

He gave me an even closer look. "Do I know you?"

"Ever been to Russia, 1169?"

"No," he said warily.

"Then, no, you don't. Not yet."

"What's your name?"

"You'll find out later. Or earlier, depending on your point of view." I grinned. "Gotta love time travel."

He returned the favor. "You are fantastic. What's your name, then?"

"Rose," she said, bemused.

"Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life." He ducked back into the shop and shut the door.

Rose just stood there, so I took her hand.

"Trust me, Rose, when the Doctor says run, it's best to do just that."

So we ran. We were barely a block away before there was an explosion and the shop went up in flames. Yes, a definite pattern. I took Rose home, refused to tell her anything, said my good-byes, then packed for New York.


	5. Page 4

And so here we are, near the end of my tale, and I know this is what you really want to hear. I know there weren't any Watchers there; Methos and I had been friends for too long, and anyone else would have been intruding. Oh, he looked so tired, and the smile he gave me was as pale as his voice.

"It's down to us."

"It's not fair," I said, as if I didn't know that life was anything but.

He shrugged. "Look at it this way; you won't have to fight for it."

"Methos, no. We don't have to do this."

"No, we don't have to. But, I'm tired, Lex, I'm going on out of habit, nothing more. I've been dead since Duncan lost his head."

A quick note for you here; Methos and Duncan were never a couple, but there was a deep friendship there, and the Double Quickening they took at Bordeaux connected them even further. I'd known that a part of Methos had died with Duncan, but I hadn't realized how bad it was.

"Methos…"

"I just came from the hospital. Joe's gone. I don't have anyone to keep me going, just you and, as much as I love you, it's not enough."

Another note; I really shouldn't be telling you this, with the rules against crossing and/or polluting timelines. But, the last time I saw you, you knew, and you were ready for it.

I tried again. "Methos, don't make me do this."

"Aleksandra, my kitten, don't make me live."

Oh, Gods, his voice cracked and I could see it, now, all the weariness of five thousand years. All he wanted to do was sleep, and how could I make him go on, when it was nothing but pain for him? No, not even that; he'd become numb long ago. I closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears back. It didn't work, of course. "After all you've done for me, been to me, how can I do that to you?"

He took my face in his hands and kissed me gently. "Thank you," he whispered. "I just have one favor to ask. Tell the Doctor that I said thank you. It was one of the best things I've ever done."

When I did tell the Doctor, he explained to me that he'd talked Methos into taking me as his student. He had to, after all, so I could survive and tell him where we first met, so he could go back, cause my first death, and talk Methos into taking me as his student…Lovely little paradox, isn't it? Gotta love time travel.

Methos dropped to his knees and I drew my sword and opened my eyes. The least I owed him was to watch while I did it. "Thank you for everything, Methos. Oh, Gods, I'm going to miss you."

He looked up, a peaceful smile on his face. "No, you won't. I'll still be with you."

"There are worse people to have running through my head," I said, my voice almost steady as I drew my sword, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

I swung, and Methos' head fell from his shoulders.

The Quickening built slowly, as it always did, the light flickering around head and body where they had once met. Then, it started running along the entire body, and I cried, with relief, love, sorrow, as the electricity gathered and grew, drove my sword into the ground and hung onto it, trying to ground myself. Then it all burst forth in a violent display, lightning that sent trees crashing down, ripped great divots in the sod, struck me with an intensity I'd never known. It ripped me apart, body, soul, and mind, and I screamed as I was filled with Methos' energy. Being mortal, you've never taken a Quickening, don't know the pain, the ecstasy, the almost sexual energy that comes with one. This was a thousand times more powerful, and I felt like I was dying, like I was being birthed.

When it finally released me, I dropped to my knees, trying to breathe again. And, finally, I knew what the Prize was.

Nothing.

There was nothing there but the result of a five thousand-year-old Quickening, with all the power of all those years and all those heads. Not that it wasn't impressive, but if there was nothing more, what had it all been for?

I screamed to the sky. Or, I tried to; my voice had been stolen by the screaming I'd done during the Quickening. There were words, unheard, though I'm sure if anyone had, they would have heard the same questions I asked above. Probably a few curses for whatever Gods felt it necessary for me—for us—to go through all that, just to be alone.

Ah, but not alone. When I finally collapsed, drained of all energy and emotion, I realized that someone was there, and had been for a while. He took my sword and tucked it into his pocket (bigger on the inside, of course), then gathered me into his arms.

"I have you, Love," the Doctor murmured. "I have you, you're safe."

Well, not safe, exactly, not with the Doctor. I blacked out at that point, wasn't aware when he brought me onto the TARDIS. I was awake when we landed, though, and without a moment to breathe we were in danger of our lives once more. That's when I learned that Gallifrey had been destroyed in a Time War with the Daleks. You don't want to know what they are, trust me; they're enough to have given me a healthy paranoia of salt shakers. We survived that, though, and got our vacation; as I write this, I'm sitting on a cliff overlooking the River of Light. It's the most beautiful thing, like the Aurora in a riverbed. We've been left alone by the locals; the Amazlians worship the color blue (sentient beings can build a religion around anything), so the Doctor, with his eyes and magic box, is well thought of, here, and protected.

I'm still Immortal, but it's not as bad as it might have been. Time Lords, after all, have amazingly long life spans; the Doctor is nine hundred and still going strong. It's strange being with someone my own age, though sometimes he makes me feel like a child. I've met a number of brilliant people, but the Doctor blows them all away.

Just a last few things, before I go. I'm going to bury Methos next to Alexa. She was, after all, his last love, and greatest, and that's where he would want to be. I never did find out where you wanted to go, so I'll put you next to Duncan, and I hope that's all right. I know it would be with him; you were more than a friend, you were family. To us all, really. I plan on visiting the four of you once a year, but I have no idea if that's going to wind up being my time or Earth's. They're not always the same thing.

After I do that, I'm going to clear out the storage facilities I have and close up my apartment. I'll keep a few things—most of my clothes, my sword, pictures and photo albums—but I belong on the TARDIS, now, and don't want any other home.

So, there you have it. I can't thank you enough for being such a good friend, Joe. I wish it didn't have to end like this, but I can't change the past; crossing your own timeline tends to lead to the end of the world, or so I've been told. Nine hundred years, and I still don't completely understand the intricacies. But, then, I'm not a Time Lady; the Doctor claims that his people evolved specifically for time travel.

And, now, the Doctor is calling. For a man who's lived so long, who is a master of Time, he can get quite impatient. I know it's because the action, the frenetic pace, keeps him from dwelling on the loneliness, from feeling the guilt of survival. It's the same reason I keep up with him. We're returning to Earth for a short while; a brief stop so he can give this letter to you, then back to my current time to pick up Rose. And another companion. Yes, somewhere along the line, he picked up another pathetic life form. I have no idea who; anytime I ask, the only answer I get is a smug, knowing smile. I'm willing to bet it's someone I know, but I can't imagine who it would be.

There's a date under your name, you'll notice (I'm sure the Doctor will have said something about it). I'd tell you not to read this before said date, but I know better. Now I understand why you didn't opt for the chemo. Now I understand your silence, the looks you gave Methos and I whenever we started discussing the Gathering, the Prize, the end. Thank you for not saying anything; if I had known, I don't think I would have had the courage to go through with it.

So, good night, sweet prince. You will be remembered for as long as I have left. The Doctor, more in tune with time than I am, assures me it will be a very long time, indeed.


	6. Epilogue

Joe folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. It would have been too much to believe, but he knew damn well that it was Lex's hand writing, and he hadn't told them about the cancer, yet. And there was that odd blue box that Duncan's Watcher had mentioned seeing during the Blitz…

"The rest of the troops are here, Joe, you joining us any time soon?"

"Hold your horses, Old Man," he called back to Methos. He wiped his eyes, found his composure, then made his way out of his office. "What, you forgot where the beer was, or something?"

"Like that would ever happen," Duncan scoffed.

"We were just wondering if you knew who else we've lost, over the past week or so."

Joe dropped into a chair and heaved a sigh, trying to keep the sorrow and sympathy out of the glance he gave Lex. "I'd rather not talk about that, right now. Look, guys, there's something I need to tell you. I've been sick lately…yeah, I know, you've noticed. It's cancer."

Three hands reached for him and he gripped them tightly. In spite of everything, the future didn't look too bad.


End file.
